


Beneath the Weirwood Tree

by Shewolf_of_highgarden



Series: Soft Thorns [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arya is Stubborn, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pre-Relationship, politics that arent explained, slight OOC behavior, willas is nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 12:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14811290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shewolf_of_highgarden/pseuds/Shewolf_of_highgarden
Summary: They wed in the Gods Wood of High Garden.





	Beneath the Weirwood Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Some quick house keeping stuff before we begin:  
> A. As mentioned in the tags this is a fic with an Older man and younger woman. Arya is about 17 and Willas is 27.  
> B. There are some plot holes, especially with relationships but the relationships are only mentioned and do not actually play a large role in this particular fic.  
> C. Thank you for reading! This is for a prompt made found on asoiafrarepairs.

The first time Arya saw the Gods Wood of High Garden she almost cried. She didn’t, though, or at least she tells herself that she did not feel tear well up. It was stupid, she knew, to get all worked up over a Gods Wood, she had seen them even after coming South with Father and Sansa. She had spent many a morning praying with Father in the Gods Wood of King’s Landing, though she spent just about as much time kneeling before the Maiden in the Sept with Sansa.

 

The South had Gods Woods, but they were not ones in truth, at least not to Arya. Some southern houses had what they considered a Gods Wood, but it took after the one in the Red Keep. It startled her every time some lady or lordling offered to show her their weirwood only to find it a normal, if abnormally large, faceless tree. It had been even worse when she had traveled to the Eyrie with Father to see Sansa wed to Harrold Arryn. What they called a Gods Wood turned out to be little more than a garden. When she asked her new brother (he kept insisting that was his new title) where the Weirwood was he simply pointed to a random tree. It was obvious that either he did not know which tree was the Weirdwood or there wasn’t one. After asking Father it became clear that the latter was true.

 

When Father had told her that she was going to the High Garden to wed Willas Tyrell she had given up on seeing a proper Gods Wood again, well that was not the foremost thought, but it did come eventually. If those so close to the Neck got it wrong, then those so far from it could not be expected to get it right. She had seen few place in the South that actually had a decent place to pray to the Old Gods.

 

She knew that Storm’s End had a decent one from Shireen, though as much as she liked her soon-to-be good sister her judgement on the matter was somewhat in question as Dragon Stone did not have a proper God’s Wood. Myrcella had said that Casterly Rock had a Weirdwood tree inside of a Stone Garden, but Arya was not sure if that counted as a Woods if it was stone. She had liked the woods in Riverrun when she had gone for Uncle Edmure’s wedding. She had spent time laughing and chasing her brothers in the lush woods, much as they had done as children back in Winterfell, the sad face of the tree watching them, however, made it a somewhat eerie affair at times. No one below the Riverlands seemed to have a true Gods Wood.

 

The thought of not having one hurt something in her. Arya had never been an especially religious person, but the Old Gods were her gods, maybe a bit more than the Seven were though she would never tell Mother that. The Gods Wood was a place of memories for her. She and her siblings had played there for years, up until she and Sansa and Father had gone south. When she had returned home for Robb’s wedding to Wynafred Manderly, she, Bran, and Rickon had managed a good snow ball fight. The night before the festivities Wylla Manderly, Jorelle Mormont, Meera Reed, and Arya had snuck off to the hot springs that were on the outskirts of the Woods. She had more and more memories in those woods. She had loved growing up under them, she especially loved learning how to climb them.

 

To be completely away from something that was so much a part of her life made her sad. They were taking the North from her, no matter how many times Father and Mother insisted she would always be welcome in Winterfell. She would not have Winterfell, or her brothers, or even Sansa who would be closer to home than to her. She would not have the wolfs wood where you could hear the wolves howling and where she beat Rickon time and time again in horse races. She would not be able to play in the snow or see the wild flowers that grew all over. She would be trading her favorite blue winter’s roses for golden ones. That angered her. It felt as though they were taking everything that reminded her of the North, of _her_ , away including her gods.

 

She had not believed Princess Margaery when she had told her of the Gods Woods of Highgarden as they drank tea. The girl was sneaky, Arya knew that much. She had somehow convinced Joffrey to raise enough of a fuss that Sansa was set aside and Margaery put as princess. By that point no one, including Sansa, was all that upset. The only person who seemed truly upset was King Robert, but one of the maids told Arya that Joffrey gave the King two bottles of expensive Dornish wine and the man seemed to get over it all. Even though it worked out in their – Sansa’s and Arya’s too because she hated the idea of having to call that worm family- favor, she still did not trust Margaery. She did not trust Margaery to tell her the truth about High Garden either.

 

She knew all too well the role family members played in making sure that a bride or groom does not make a run for it. Sometimes people said whatever they thought would be convincing, even if it was not entirely accurate. Just like when she told Lyanna Mormont that Rickon was an excellent hunter. It was only partially a lie. Rickon did know how to hunt, he was just sort of bad at it. The real issue was that he made too much noise, Father said that he would be better when he was older. Arya hoped so because if he was not good at it by the time he and Lyanna wed, Arya would have to face Lyanna Mormont just like Margaery would have to face her if the Gods Wood was no Gods Wood at all, but some southern imagining of one.

 

To Arya’s shock, however, Margaery did not lie. The Gods Wood of High Garden was gorgeous. It was large with three weirwood trees planted in the center. Oddly enough throughout the years they had grown together, forming what appeared to be a single tree from tree different stumps. At the base of the trees laid a pool just a bit bigger than the one in the God’s Wood in Winterfell. True the woods was lighter and flowers grew at the bases of the trees, and the surrounding trees were different, but this wood reminded her of home. She could imagine running here with her little brothers. It was a strange and abrupt thought, but she thought she could see her own children playing under the trees.

 

“I see you found the God’s Wood.” A deep voice said from behind her, causing Arya to whip around.

 

Behind her stood Willas Tyrell. He was handsome, even Arya had to give him that. The Tyrells made beautiful people, she thought that Mace Tyrell might be an anomaly. He had the deep brown eyes of his sister, though his were warmer, with equally dark locks of wavy hair. He was a tall man, even when he was leaning on his cane. That had surprised her somewhat. Whenever someone had spoken to her about Willas – save maybe his siblings- it always seemed like they were preparing her for something. She had been under the assumption that he was an invalid, not that he had trouble using one of his legs. She could deal with either in all honesty, but it had been a surprise that he was not as injured as people made him sound.

 

“I was surprised to find you had a true one. Everything south of the Riverlands never seems right.” She said, perhaps a bit stiffly. It was not that she disliked Willas, per se. It was no personal exactly, it was more the principle of the thing. She did not wish to wed, so anyone she wed she would not like. Willas, however, with his kindness and love of horses was making things very difficult for her.

 

“It was used for a long time,’ he said walking closer to her, his slowness seeming more deliberate than necessary as if he was trying not to startle a new foal, ‘they say Garth Greenhand planted the weirwood trees and that even King Garth IX prayed here and he was the one to build the sept.”

 

“Do people still come here?”

 

“Not too many, but I like to come out here. It’s peaceful and usually private, it’s a good place for contemplation. Do you practice the Old faith, my lady?”

 

“Don’t call me that.” She snapped, turning away from the reflecting water to glare at him.

 

“What?” he asked, sounding startled.

 

“Do not call me ‘my lady’. I’m not a lady, if you much call me something call me by my name.”

 

“Okay. Do you practice the Old faith, _Arya_?” he repeated with a grin.

 

She shrugged, “I practice the Old and the New, I guess. Growing up I prayed with my mother in the Sept and with my father in the Gods Wood. I prefer the Gods Wood, though, to a sept. Septs are stuffy and boring and Gods Wood is somewhere you can go whenever you want, you can play or talk you do not just have to pray.”

 

“As children we played in the Gods Wood, too. Loras actually broke his right arm falling from the Weirwood tree when he was nine.”

 

“My youngest brother, Rickon, did the same. My brother Bran and I got in so much trouble for it.”

 

“Was it your fault?”

 

“Maybe a bit,’ Arya said with a grin, speaking of her brothers usually put her in a good mood, ‘it was a few days before my older brother’s wedding my brother Bran and I told him that if he could get a leaf from the highest branch he could make a wish and it would come true. He had to be about seven or eight at the time and he fell for it. Well he gets up about half way and slips, you would have thought the world had ended the way he howled.”

 

“It as similar with Loras,’ Willas said with a fond smile, ‘Garlan and I had dared him to go to the top. He was about six or so and we had convinced him that only a true knight could get to the top. He managed to climb a good distance, but he got startled by a squirrel. As punishment Garlan and I have to help take care of him.”

 

Arya laughed at that. She had spent little time with Loras at court, which suited both of them just fine. Loras was not an easy man. He was temperamental and rather stand-offish, he also had been proven to possess a temper to rival hers. She could just imagine having to cater to the little version of Loras.

 

“I can just imagine the fun you and Garlan had. I had to kneel in front of the crone for seven hours and pray for the wisdom not to guide my little brothers in the wrong direction. Bran had to help polish all of the swords in the armory, I still wish that had been my punishment.”

 

They lapsed into silence after that. Arya looking around the woods, and bending down to feel the water. It was warm, or at least her version of warm, Shireen had informed her that she had no idea what warm truly was. She was just about to walk over to take a closer look at the surrounding trees when Willas spoke again.

 

“Your father told me you were fond of horses. I had hoped to show the stables, I breed them you known.” He said looking almost shy.

 

Arya paused. She had heard about his horses from his family, and was curious. She did love to ride and had little chance to venture near the stables. There were wedding preparations to attend to and she was sure her parents believed if they let her on a horse that she would ride off and never look back. They were not necessarily wrong in their beliefs. On the other hand this might give him too much hope. He might think that this meant she actually liked him…but she truly had nothing better to do. If she did not go with him she would probably be forced to have tea or embroider with Margaery and her cousins, accompanied by Sansa who was fast friends with Margaery.

 

“I…I would like to see them.” She agreed, telling herself that she was agreeing only because she did not wish to be forced into another fitting or something.

 

He showed her the stables and more. He showed her every horse he had along with a detailed description of the animal down to their favorite foods. He showed her the new stalls from the Sandsteeds that could be coming up from Dorne. He showed her the new puppies that one of his hunting hounds had given birth to the night before the party from King’s Landing arrived. He promised to take her to the flower fields sooner than later, to see the golden roses High Garden was known for in their wild form. The more time they spent together the fewer things Arya found to dislike the man. He did not even disapprove or seemed shocked when she admitted to wearing leathers when riding. He was funny and kind and smart, but she was determined not to like him, even if he had promised to take her hawking.

 

She found it easy to dislike him on her wedding day. As one of her new handmaidens, a young Florent girl with the unfortunate ears, rubbed rose oil on her while her mother droned on about the important things in marriage while Sansa nodded along. If they spoke of duty one more time she would scream. She did not particularly care about her duty. True, she was a bit satisfied that this marriage would ensure her family had food in the winter. That did not mean she needed to be reminded of it constantly.

 

Eventually she was ready and her mother had to stop lecturing. With a smile her mother took heer into her arms and kissed her temple.

 

“You look beautiful, Arya.”

 

That had surprised her, it was rare that her mother called her beautiful. As she waited for Father she looked at herself in the large looking glass that had residence in the corner of the room. She looked like her and not her all at the same time. Her eyes and face were the same, but everything else wasn’t. Her hair, which was usually tangled and windswept or tied back into a simple braid, was piled on to her head in some Southern fashion that was guaranteed to give her a headache before everything was over. Instead of her riding leathers or her usual scruffy looking gowns she wore a gown of white summer silk with a plunging neckline and long sleeves with blue roses embroidered on the hems. The gown was clearly in the style worn by women in the Reach, the only part of her out that was Norther was her maiden’s cloak. Comfortingly heavy, the cloak had last been worn by Sansa in the Vale. The cloak looked old, but still beautiful. A grey wolf on white wool with shadow cat fur trim. When it had been Sansa’s turn to wed their mother had added seed pearls to the cloak to try and make it not so plane. Arya did not care about pearls either way, but she did feel comforted with her family’s direwolf on her back.

 

When her father came and got her she was barely paying attention. He was saying something, but she just could not focus. Time had decided to speed up when earlier today it had felt as if this day would never end. She didn’t listen to him, could not hear him really, and simply tried not to run. It was tempting to lift her heavy shirt and bolt for the stables, grab a horse and ride far far away. Her father’s hand on her arm stopped her from trying that. He would catch her in this stupid dress and make her marry the Tyrell heir anyway.

 

She barely realized that had ended up in front of the Gods Wood when she suddenly registered that there were more trees than necessary for a sept. She looked at her father in confusion.

 

“Are we not going to the sept?” she asked.

 

Her father smiled at her, “No, sweetling, we are going to the Gods Wood. Willas asked that you be married in front of the weirwood tree.”

 

That was a shock. Mace Tyrell bragged to anyone that would listen that High Garden had one of the most beautiful septs in the Seven Kingdoms. They also, like most Southerners, worshipped the Seven. She had not thought that Willas would want to wed anywhere, but in the sept, but if he had wanted a different place she found it hard to believe his grandmother or father would allow it.

 

“I do not understand.” Arya said, pausing at the start of the Gods Wood.

 

“I hear he put up quite the fight for it. I’m told he wanted to honor Northern traditions as well since he was marrying a Northerner. You will be married in the Gods Wood, but tomorrow morning there will be a smaller ceremony in the Sept. The Septon is scandalized, of course, but I think they offered some nice donations that convinced him.”

 

“If the High Septon finds out, we are all in trouble.”

 

Her father laughed at that, “I’d no idea you cared so much what the High Septon thinks.”

 

“I listen to you on occasion, you know. You were complaining that the new High Septon is too devout a few moons ago.”

 

Father chuckled again, but then his face turned serious. “Make this one of the occasions you listen to me, Arya. Willas Tyrell is a good man and will make a good husband for you, if I did not truly believe that we would not be here. Happiness takes work, you truly can be happy down here if you try. Promise me you will try to be happy here, just try.”

 

Arya contemplated her father for a moment before giving a deep sigh. “I swear by the old gods and the new that I will try to be happy in High Garden.” He agreed.

 

“That’s my girl.” He said hugging her before letting go and tucking her arm into his.

 

He led her into the God’s Wood as her eyes went anywhere, but in front of her. Her eyes found her brothers, sister, and mother. Rickon made a face at her when their eyes met and Arya stuck her tongue out at him in return, uncaring about who saw. Their mother saw and turned to give Rickon a light smack on her arm, guessing the reason for Arya pulling such a face. She found the faces of Margaery and her brothers, Garlan looking happy and his wife looking teary. Olenna Tyrell looked rather pleased with herself.

 

All too soon she was in front of the weirwood and Willas. Her father placed her hand in Willas’s and then stood back to stand next to her mother. As they spoke Arya’s eyes wondered around the Gods Wood and finally landed on Willas. Looking at him with his kind eyes and shy smile she thought maybe trying to be happy would not be such a bad thing. The weirwood trees beside her had learned to live in the South, if they could do it so could she. At the very least she could try.

 


End file.
